A Brotherly Proposition
by cactusnell
Summary: Mycroft has a suggestion for Molly regarding his brother. Will she follow through, or chicken out? Sherlolly


Mycroft Holmes was not a man to take a threat to his way of life lightly. This was a man who had started, and halted, revolutions, who had taken out dictators and set up others, who had collapsed prosperous economies and bolstered foundering ones. He dealt with threats on a daily basis, quickly and efficiently, and sometimes with what they referred to in the espionage trade as "extreme prejudice". Since this threat originated with his mother, he would prefer not to resort to that option.

Violet Holmes had been happily ensconced in the family home in the English countryside with the love of her life for many a year. But, as she grew more and more aware of these advancing years, she also grew more aware of her sons' lack of companionship. And her lack of grandchildren. She wanted her children to be happy, as happy as she had been, and still was. And to her mind this meant wives, and families, of their own. To this end, she had been in touch with her elder boy more frequently lately, dropping hints and making suggestions. And Violet's "hints" and "suggestions" more often sounded like imperial commands. Mycroft knew he could put her off for just so long before the situation came to a head, and if there was to be a proverbial head on the chopping block, he was determined that it would be his younger brother's, not his own. To this end, he had invited Dr. Molly Hooper to join him for tea at a lovely hotel dining room near his office in Whitehall.

"Mycroft, this place is beautiful. You're going to spoil me," Molly said with a smile as she joined him at his table.

"The establishment is simply graced by your presence, Dr. Hooper. I'm glad you could join me." The man rose from his chair as Molly took her seat.

"I can never turn down one of your invitations, Mycroft. You frequent some of the best venues in London, after all. I feel like a schoolgirl on an outing with a charming prince."

"I assure you that I am neither princely nor charming, Molly. And you deserve the best. You don't value yourself highly enough, as I have also told you on myriad occasions." Mycroft Holmes meant every word he said. Molly Hooper was one of the few people in this world that he considered a friend, and he was more than proud to do so. She was brilliant, charming, kind, and beautiful. She was also in love his his younger brother, he knew. She would say hopelessly in love, Mycroft knew otherwise.

"So, Mycroft, what's up?"

"It pains me to think that you believe I must have an agenda in order to invite you to tea, Molly. Don't you consider me a friend, after all this time?"

"Of course I do. But I can read you almost as well as I read your brother, and I can tell right now that there is something on your mind. So, what do you need?"

Mycroft looked across the table at the small woman sitting there, and hesitated for just a moment. He really had no idea how she would react to his request, his suggestion. Finally, he cleared his throat, took a sip of his tea, and said, rather quietly, "I need you to seduce my brother."

Had Molly actually been sipping tea at that moment, she may very well have done a classic spit take. Instead, she merely sat a bit more upright, blinked a few times, and said, "Pardon me?"

"I need you to seduce that big prat, Dr. Hooper! Work your womanly wiles on him! Entice him, beguile him! You have all the equipment needed, use it to your advantage."

"Sherlock has never been interested in my 'equipment', Mycroft. Or any female's, as far as I know. He has assured me that his interest in that Janine woman was for a case, and that he was merely stimulated by Miss Adler's lovely, oversized brain."

"My dear Molly, you have known my brother for a mere seven or eight years, while I have been subjected to his foibles for his entire lifetime. While his landlady may confide to all and sundry her belief that he is gay, I can assure you that that is most certainly not the case, and that your 'equipment' is of great interest to him."

"Damn it, Mycroft, I don't know whether what you are saying is good news or bad. I could always, before, console myself with the fact that he simply was not interested in women. Now I have to face the fact that he is simply not interested in me."

"Nothing could be further from the truth, I assure you. My brother is simply not very good at expressing himself. Despite his seeming bravado, he tends to take a back seat when it comes to relationships. He cut a rather large swath through the undergraduate female population while at uni, but, given his looks, the girls were not at all shy about approaching him. He never had to take the initiative. He's been spoiled in that regard, and, I'm afraid, due to my dictums about the danger of feelings and sentiment, he has kept himself aloof from that aspect of his makeup, too aloof, I believe. He is, after all, a somewhat normal male specimen, in good health, and really not the sociopath he presents himself to be."

"Mycroft, I'm not sure that I agree with you. I've seen women practically throw themselves at him, and they seemingly had no effect…"

"Have you ever thrown yourself at him? I'm sure he'd trip over himself trying to catch you, Molly."

"I'm not at all convinced that I wouldn't break a bone or two in the endeavor!"

"Molly, you should not mistake his inaction for indifference. He's just a prat! Take a chance! Go for the gold! Live a little!"

"If you're done with the cliches, Mycroft, perhaps you could explain why this is so important to you all of a sudden. Could it be that Violet has once again been on about grandchildren, and the lack thereof? And, you being the elder, are naturally her first target…"

"Be that as it may, Molly, I hope you will take my advice. You would make my brother very happy, not to mention yourself, myself, my parents. It's a win/win situation, really."

"It would also take the pressure of you, it would seem. Tell me, after this seduction, am I supposed to produce children as well. Will you hold me to some sort of schedule? And how am I supposed to accomplish this?"

"Molly, you're a doctor, I would expect you to know all the mechanics involved…"

"That's not what I mean. Just how am I, after all this time, to suddenly turn all femme fatale, and make it believable?"

"Really, Molly, I am not suggesting that you parade yourself naked through his sitting room. Just smile a bit seductively, touch him occasionally, gaze at him through lowered lashes,..."

"Good lord, Mycroft, you're beginning to sound like some sort of cheap romance novel!"

"If all else fails, just snog him senseless. I guarantee he'll snog back. He's not dead yet, just a bit out of practice."

"And afterward? The next morning? What then?"

"It seems I have more faith in my brother than you do, my dear. I am assuming that he will keep you busy well into the next afternoon, breaking only to replenish himself. It has been a long drought, after all. And, if my intuition proves correct, as it does with unwavering regularity, we will soon be in-laws."

"Not to be indelicate, but I'd settle for a good roll in the hay at this point."

"Never settle, my dear. Carpe diem."

"Mycroft, why are you really telling me this?" The sincere, almost pleading, tone in the pathologist's voice made him look at her kindly, and speak more gently. "Because, my dear Molly, I know you care for him even more than I do. And, because I know my brother so well, I know he cares for you more than he allows himself, or anyone else, to believe. I would not urge you to such a course if I thought otherwise. I need you to save him from himself, and to save me from my mother's rather vociferous entreaties. I would much rather, at this point in my life, be an uncle than a father. I sincerely hope you two prove remarkably fertile, as Mummy is rather unlikely to be satisfied with a singular grandchild, and I hope to avoid her nagging in the future."

"Mycroft, I say this with as much kindness as I can muster, but you can be a real arse."

"That comes as no surprise to me as I have been informed likewise by heads of states and foreign dignitaries alike. It hurts a bit more coming from you, but if things turn out the way I suspect, I hope you will change that opinion." The man frowned a bit, but his mood soon lightened as a tray of rather delectable pastries were deposited on their table. The rest of the meal passed in almost silence, as neither could think of a single thing to add to the conversation.

The next morning saw Dr. Hooper returning to her morgue, looking almost as unhealthy as her charges, having gotten very little sleep the night before. Mycroft's words still echoed in her mind. Seduce Sherlock Holmes? The man "married to his job"? Sherlock "the body is only transport" Holmes. Even if she could ever get up the nerve to do so, she was not entirely sure how to go about it. And she certainly was nowhere near as confident as Mycroft was about the outcome. She was more than moderately certain that she would receive a gentle, or even not so gentle, brush off, something like a pesky fly circling a delectable pudding. Sherlock would be embarrassed, she would be humiliated, and they would probably never exchange words again! Should she risk such an outcome merely on Mycroft Holmes' seeming confidence?

These thoughts were still running through her mind when she received a text from the man himself.

I NEED A FOOT - SH

YOU ALREADY HAVE TWO. USE ONE OF THEM. - MOLLY

VERY FUNNY. A MALE FOOT PREFERABLY, SIZE DOESN'T MATTER, BUT NO CALLUSES OR FUNGAL INFECTIONS, PLEASE. - SH

I'LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO.- MOLLY

THIS IS IMPORTANT. DELIVER AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. OR POSSIBLY SOONER - SH

"Arrogant prick!", Molly thought, and not for the first time. She knew just where she would like to deliver a foot on the detective's anatomy, the more callused and fungus-y the better. But, truth be told, she had just what he had requested in one of the freezers.

I'LL DROP IT OFF TONIGHT - MOLLY

As soon as she sent the text, she felt a bit disappointed with herself. Once again she found herself acquiescing to the detective's demand, just as she always did.

I SUPPOSE THAT WILL HAVE TO DO. - SH

Molly once again envisioned shoving that foot up his rather tight arse! Which brought to mind his rather incredible arse, as it were, and her conversation with Mycroft.

The rest of the day passed rather slowly, with Molly both looking forward to an evening with the love of her life and a healthy cadaver foot, and dreading being in the same room with the disturbingly attractive man after having listened to his brother's exhortations. It was one thing to spend time with him when she knew her attraction was totally unreciprocated, but to have his brother try to convince her that all she needed to do was to make a move, and all her fantasies would be fulfilled was quite another. By the end of the day she had decided to pretend that she had a mind palace of her own, where she could assign Mycroft Holmes and all his disturbing suggestions to a broom closet in the sub-basement. As an afterthought, she added a rather debauched looking bedroom upstairs where she could adjourn on some other occasion to spend some quality time with the man of her dreams. Smiling to herself, she picked up a bonesaw and headed to the freezer compartment to relieve one anonymous corpsicle of his baby soft and non-fungal left foot.

Later, just before she left the lab, Sherlock texted to inform her that he would be providing a takeaway dinner, so there was no need for her to think about a meal. She supposed that he was trying to be nice, to make up for his rather high-handed manner earlier in the day, and she smiled to herself. Sometimes he could act just like a real human being. She took the tube to Baker Street, glancing about at the other people in the train car, wondering, not for the first time, just what they would think if the knew the contents of the cooler on her lap. She really did live a rather bizarre life in some respects, but she wouldn't trade it for anything. By the time she arrived at the flat, Sherlock was pacing about impatiently, not that he ever did anything patiently. As soon as she entered, he took the cooler from her hands, glanced at the frozen appendage, and muttering, "Excellent! Excellent!", proceeded to put it in the fridge.

"I thought you were in such a hurry. You implied that time was of the essence, Sherlock."

"I'm sure I never said that, Molly, although you may have inferred that. Come on, sit down, have something to eat while we talk."

"What do you want to talk about, Sherlock?"

"I thought you might want to tell me about your meeting with my brother, Molly. What did you talk about?"

"How did you know I had tea with Mycroft? Are you spying on me?"

"No, of course not! But my homeless network has eyes all over the city, and I always find it interesting when my friends meet with my brother, Molly. Did he offer you money to report back to him about me? Again? You should take him up on his offer, by the way. You'd be so much the richer, and he'd be poorer. A win/win situation, in my estimation."

"I don't spy on my friends for money, Sherlock!"

"Neither does John. A pity, really. His daughter could have a nice little nest egg built up at my brother's expense…"

"Oh, for god's sake, Sherlock, shut up. He didn't try to recruit me to spy on you. At least, not this time. Just forget it, okay?" Molly was getting more and more flustered. She knew that if the detective were to keep questioning her, he would eventually discover the essence of her conversation with his brother. Embarrassing as it may be, perhaps she should just lay out Mycroft's proposition. Better to do it on her own terms than to have him wheedle it out of her. "Mycroft wanted me to seduce you, Sherlock."

The silence lasted long enough that Molly though that she had lost him to the corridors of his mind palace. "Sherlock? Did you hear me?"

Finally, the detective responded, "Yes, Molly, I certainly heard you. I was just calculating what Mycroft has to gain from the situation. I can only deduce that Mummy has been on another extended campaign for grandchildren. And since my brother is the elder one, Mummy usually springs this on him first. Mycroft has made no secret of his dislike for small children, or 'carpet crawlers', as he refers to them, so I can only assume that he is deflecting our mother's grandmaternal urges onto me. Tell me, did he seem confident that you would succeed?"

Molly was now turning bright red. "Really, Sherlock, what does that matter! It's only Mycroft's imaginings, after all."

"Dr. Hooper, need I remind you that this country owes its welfare and continuing security to my brother's instincts? So, tell me, how did he think it would turn out? Did he make any suggestions about how you should do it, as I cannot recall you ever making a sincere attempt at seduction in the past."

Molly was almost relaxed enough to enjoy the light bantering tone, and she tried to keep things going in this manner. "Well, he did suggest that parading around naked in your sitting room might be a bit too obvious for a subtle man such as yourself. A seductive smile, perhaps," here she gave him her most seductive smile, "a longing gaze," now she raised her eyes to look at him through her long lashes.

"Tell me, did he ever get around to suggesting that you actually touch me? I mean, the smile and the gaze can be quite effective, but touch may prove even more so, don't you think?"

"I didn't think you liked being touched, Sherlock."

"Molly, there is touching, and then there is toughing. A right cross to the jaw is a touch, but hardly a seductive one. However, a gentle brush of the knuckles along that same jaw bone," and here, he demonstrated that precise move, "can be quite arousing, don't you think?" Molly just stared straight ahead, not sure if he was demonstrating a seductive tactic, or actually engaging in one. "Now, you try."

The pathologist lifted her small hand to run the back of her fingers along the man's well defined jawline, then moved up to his even more well defined cheekbones, running her thumb from his nose outward. She ended this maneuver with a slight brush of her fingers across his perfect cupid's bow mouth.

"Molly, I really don't want to disparage my brother's lessons in the seductive arts, but did he ever get around to mentioning using your lips in the process?" He had barely got the sentence out, when Molly did just that, crashing her lips onto his, and not budging until they were both breathless. Before long, the question of who was the seducer and who the seducee was lost in a tangle of limbs, and falling clothes, a rippling of giggles, and the soft sounds of mingled murmurs as they made their way to the bedroom.

Mycroft had been proved wrong in one respect, however. He had suggested that Sherlock would keep his pathologist occupied until well into the next afternoon. It was actually rather late the next evening when the two emerged from the bedroom, foraging for food and drink, Sherlock wrapped in a sheet, while Molly wore one of his shirts. When they sat at the kitchen table drinking tea and eating omelettes, Molly finally asked if he intended to call his brother to inform him of the new development in their relationship.

"I think not, Molly. Mycroft will surely figure it out for himself at some point. But I am considering inviting Anthea for tea some afternoon. One good turn deserves another, as they say." He smiled across the table at his newly established significant other, making plans on how to show her just how significant she truly was.


End file.
